Alex's patience snapped like a taut string as he stormed into the private chamber where his mother waited. She stood, hands clasped, hope lingering in her aging but still beautiful face. He did not give her the chance to speak.
"If you ever bring another fake Luna before me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, "I will send you so far from this land that no one will ever hear from you again."
His mother flinched at the cruelty of his words. She opened her mouth, perhaps to apologize or defend herself, but Alex's burning gaze warned her to stay silent. With a cold sweep of his hand, he dismissed her, and she fled the room with her head bowed low.
Alex raked a hand through his hair, his chest heaving. The anger pounding through him wasn't just from his mother's latest stunt — it was something deeper, more unsettled.
Before he could delve into it, the heavy wooden doors swung open, and a group of his pack warriors entered. They bowed low before him, a sign of deep respect.
"Alpha," the lead warrior spoke, "we've come to remind you. The Bloody Fight Festival approaches. It is tradition — the five surrounding kingdoms will come to witness. Blood must be shed. Strength must be proven."
Alex straightened. His sharp gaze hardened further. "Good," he said simply.
"And, Alpha," another added, "your mother… she has already begun preparations for a feast."
Alex's jaw tightened. Of course, she had.
Turning away from the pack, he gestured sharply to the nearby maids. "Take the food prepared for that pathetic charade and distribute it to the poor. Waste nothing."
The maids nodded quickly and rushed off. Mira, quietly standing at the edge of the room, clutched the basket she was handed. Her heart raced. Finally, a chance to help her parents.
As she slipped through the side gate with the other maids, she made sure to slip away for a brief moment. With careful hands, she tucked extra bread and roasted meat into a hidden cloth, a small gift she would secretly leave for her mother and father outside their worn little hut in the woods.
Back inside the grand hall, Alex addressed his guards next.
"Send riders to the five kingdoms," he ordered. "Tell them the Bloody Fight Festival will be hosted here. And warn them — if any woman dares approach me during the festival, she'll regret it."
The guards bowed low, recognizing the sharp glint of warning in his eyes, and hurried out to fulfill his command.
But Alex wasn't finished.
He turned to the head cook, who had just returned from organizing the food distribution.
"Another order," he said, voice like ice. "On the day of the festival, Mira will serve my wine. Only Mira. No one else."
The cook blinked, startled, but quickly nodded. She knew better than to question him.
Alex watched them all scurry away, the silence that followed pressing against him like a weight. He leaned back against the cold stone wall, crossing his arms.
Why had he even thought of Mira? he wondered, irritated. Why did her face keep slipping into his mind, calm and quiet, like a balm over his usual storms?
He snarled softly under his breath.
It wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to feel calm. Calm was weakness. He was the Alpha — ruthless, feared, merciless. There was no place in his heart for softness, not even the soft presence of a timid maid.
The thought that Mira might have given him that strange, unexplained calmness made his blood boil hotter. His ego, bruised and raw, demanded satisfaction.
He would find a way to remind everyone — including himself — of who he truly was.
Alex stalked back toward the training grounds, already making plans. He would fight the strongest warriors from each kingdom. He would draw blood and break bones. He would bask in the fear and respect he commanded.
No maid. No woman. No soft thoughts.
The Bloody Fight Festival would not just be a test for his warriors — it would be a reminder to all, and most importantly to himself, that Alex was untouchable. Unbreakable. Unfeeling.
And Mira... Mira would soon learn her place.
---
Alex leaned heavily against the balcony rail, his eyes narrowing at the slow preparations across his territory. In two days, blood would stain the festival grounds — warriors from all over the five kingdoms would come to prove their strength, and he would watch them tear each other apart.
It was a tradition he relished. One that reminded everyone why his pack ruled.
His gaze wandered, sharp and bored, until it caught a slight movement near the servants' quarters below.
There, creeping along the shadows, was Mira.
He tilted his head slightly, watching.
She clutched a bundle to her chest — a small basket. Her movements were secretive, careful. She tiptoed to the outer gate, looking around before quickly handing the basket to a thin, older woman and a stooped man waiting in the shadows.
Alex's golden eyes gleamed in the fading light. And what's this? he thought.
His lips curled into a cold smile.
"Cain," he barked over his shoulder.
A guard immediately appeared, bowing low. "Alpha."
"Find out who she just gave that basket to. Report back within the hour."
Without waiting for a reply, Alex turned away and went back inside. The click of his boots echoed in the stone hallways, but his mind wasn't on the coming festival anymore.
Instead, he kept picturing Mira's face, the way her hands trembled slightly when she passed the basket off. Soft-hearted, he thought. Foolish.
And yet... something about the sight hadn't angered him the way he expected.
It intrigued him.
Exactly an hour later, Cain returned, kneeling at his feet.
"It was her parents, Alpha. They live just beyond the village, near the old woods. Poor folk."
Alex sat back in his chair, his thumb brushing against his jaw.
Her parents.
So that's why she worked herself to the bone, he mused, why she clutched that basket like it was precious.
He smirked — a slow, dangerous expression.
Maybe Mira wasn't just soft. Maybe she was loyal too. Loyal enough to break rules and risk herself to care for her blood.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Perhaps the festival wouldn't be the only entertainment he would enjoy this year after all.